


Journeys End at the Quarter Moon

by Wanderer



Series: The Night of the Secret [4]
Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Friendship/Love, M/M, Male Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:46:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderer/pseuds/Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Artie may never go back to the Secret Service, but other dreams are possible, if the truth can finally be told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journeys End at the Quarter Moon

Journeys End at the Quarter Moon

 

I laid in my bed that night, staring out the window at the quarter moon that hung low in the sky.  I couldn’t sleep.

I kept feeling it, seeing it again in my head.  Jim, growing hard against me while we embraced.

I couldn’t understand it.  It was impossible, unthinkable.  The one thing I’d never expected, not even when Jim showed up here like a bolt out of the blue, after nearly two years. 

**************************************************************************

I laid in Artie’s extra bed, in Artie’s house, just down the hall from where Artie was sleeping.  I was tired, more tired than I’d realized.  It’d been a long day, with lots of surprises.  Still, though the bed Artie had given me was softer than any I’d been in for a long time, something in me fought sleep.  I lay sprawled in that so-soft bed, thinking.

Artie had a guest bedroom.  Several, actually.  This one was neat, handsome and well-kept.  The sheets and blankets smelled like they were freshly washed, and I couldn't help wondering why.  Did Artie just have a thorough housekeeper, or was I not the only man who’d been in this bed recently?  Had someone else been here, with Artie?  Did he have another lover, male or female?  Or more than one?  Fire clawed at my belly, at the thought of that.  I’d never wanted to share Artie with anybody, and the thought that he might’ve found someone else while I rode for so long searching for him, made me feel like smashing something.

I stared out at the crescent moon that was rising in Artie’s window, and vowed to get answers to those questions, soon.

Funny, but now that I was finally so close to Artie, I felt more alone than ever.  Though he was just down the hall, he seemed miles away.  I wanted him here with me.  Frustrated, I threw my covers off, put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling.  The rising moon threw a faint, silvery light over the bed.  I wondered if Artie had gone right to sleep, or if he was as restless as I was.

He’s never coming back, I thought sadly.  Not to the Secret Service, anyway.  That much was clear enough.  I saw Artie’s face again in my mind when I asked him.  I saw him pale, saw him instinctively back away from me.  His body had told me his answer before he could even put it into words.  His reaction to that question had been too swift, too vehement for me to hope he’d ever change his mind about it.  I wondered sadly if it was the work he didn’t want to come back to, or if he’d just been unhappy in it because of his feelings for me. 

I supposed it didn’t really matter now.  Artie had found another line of work that he seemed happy in.  He was a music teacher now.

I forced myself to face it.  The dream I’d been dreaming ever since he’d left, of us working together again, going back to the Wanderer and solving mysteries together and protecting our country together like we used to, was over.  Artie would never come back to the Secret Service -- which meant that I’d never go back to it either.

My heart ached a little.  I’d loved that life so much…

But I loved Artie more.

The Secret Service had lost Artie, but I’d found him again; and I wasn’t about to let him go.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t think it would be impossible, either.  Artie wasn’t in my bed yet, but at least we were in the same house.  Artie’s house.  Artie had taken me in, let me hug him, and told me he’d missed me.  Those were all good things, all signs that pointed to a better future for us both, if I could only convince Artie to let us stay together.

Now that I was here, I had reasons to hope.  I’d just have to do my damnedest to make sure he let me stay here.  I had to focus on the future now.  Our future.  Since Artie had built a new life for himself here, a life that seemed to suit him, I had to think of some way to fit myself into it.

I yawned, the darkness closing in on me despite myself.  This bed really was soft, and I closed my eyes, starting to drift a little.  _I have to get Artie back_ , I thought, fighting sleep.  _Have to find a way_ …

I thought of the dream I used to have of starting a horse ranch someday, when I quit the Service. 

All at once, I realized that far-off ‘someday’ was suddenly here and now.

 _A ranch!_  

My eyes snapped open.  My weariness faded and I felt a surge of excitement, just thinking about it.  It was something I’d always wanted, ever since I was a boy.  My own place, with my own fine herd of horses.  Though I’d never filled in the details before, I could see them all in my head clearly now:  a solid, sturdy ranch house with lots of rooms.  A parlor for guests.  A large bedroom with a nice soft bed for Artie and me, with a pot-bellied stove and big fireplaces to keep us warm in the winter.  Fine big stables that I’d build with my own two hands, with large, roomy stalls, clean hay and water buckets and handsome leather and silver tack.  A good line of mares to breed from.  Good mares were the lifeblood of any stable…  And ours would be grand.

Ours…  Our bed, our horses.  Everything ours, everything shared.  I was imagining Artie there with me.  But would he want that?

I bit my lip and shifted under the covers.

Artie was a music teacher now.  He’d made a good life for himself here, and more to the point, he already owned a house.  A splendid one, that he was obviously proud of.  I had no idea if he’d agree to move to a ranch with me instead.  Though he’d gone to a lot of horse sales with me over the years, and even a few races, Artie had never loved horses like I did. 

I turned it over in my head.  Moving to a ranch wouldn’t necessarily mean that Artie would have to give up his new career.  I wouldn’t expect him to.  I’d build the ranch with him in mind, so he could teach music there.  He could put his piano and other instruments in the parlor if he wanted, or I’d build him a separate music room for them, where he could teach his students in private.  A big lab too, where he could conduct his electrical experiments or invent things.  Even a library for all his books, if that was what he wanted.  And fruit trees:  I’d plant the kind that Artie loved, cherries, apples and peaches, and maybe some raspberry and blackberry vines too.  Maybe even a vineyard, if Artie wanted to make wine.

I’d build Artie anything he wanted.  Anything at all…

But doubt still niggled at me.  What if all that wasn’t enough?  What would I do if Artie didn’t want to live on a ranch?  If he wouldn’t come with me?

I didn’t know.  All I knew was, Artie came first.  He was everything to me.  I’d already given up the Secret Service for him.  If having him meant giving up on my dream of a ranch, too, then I’d do it.  I’d find some other way to stay with him and make a living.  I’d wasted a lot of years by Artie’s side, denying to myself that I wanted him.  I didn’t intend to waste any more.

_Artie came first now._

The moon was rising outside my window, beautiful and bright.   I watched it climb the night sky, trying not to think anymore, waiting for sleep.

But it was still slow in coming.  Though I tried hard not to, I couldn’t stop thinking about Artie and a ranch.  It would be so perfect, I thought, longing stealing through me.  Heat and dust and hard work, the smell of leather and horses, and Artie beside me.  I wanted all that, wanted it badly.  I thought Artie might come to like that life too, if I could ever talk him into it.  I’d always had a good eye for horses.  I’d learned that from my father.  But more than that, it had always made me feel good just to be around horses.  I loved everything about them:  training them, riding them, even the little things like feeding and grooming them.  And with the money I’d earned working for the Secret Service, I had enough saved to do more than just buy my own place.  I could afford to buy some fine horses, too.  I could start my own breeding program, raise beautiful, blooded stock.  Kentucky Saddlers maybe, or Morgans.  Maybe both…

My eyes finally started to drift shut again.  I resisted, wanting to dream about a ranch some more before sleep took me.  If we had a ranch, Artie could invent things for me, I thought sleepily.  New and better tack.  Maybe better ways to treat injured horses.  I smiled to myself.  Hell, if Artie ever put his mind to it, he could probably revolutionize horse breeding itself– and ranching, too. 

Artie and a horse ranch…  If I could have them both, I’d never want for anything else in this world. 

I’d never gone so far as to think up a name for my dream ranch before.  But that night in Artie’s house, I did.  A good horse ranch had to have a name.  Staring at that white sliver of moon, I smiled to myself.

 _“The Quarter Moon”._   It was perfect… 

**********************************************************************

I stared at the ceiling for awhile, remembering Jim’s hug, feeling his hardness burning against my hip.  I tried telling myself that I’d just imagined it, because I’d wanted it for so long.  But I knew that wasn’t true.  It had happened.  It was real.

Jim had gotten aroused while I held him.

I swallowed hard.  What the hell did it mean?

 _It can’t mean what I want it to mean_ , I thought wryly.  That left only one possibility – Jim was playing some sort of game, just like he’d always done with all his women.  Only now he was playing with me; maybe in revenge for the fact that I’d left him.  Had he been holding me, but thinking of a woman just then?  Just to tease me, to taunt me with what I could never have, because he knew what I was, and how much I’d always wanted him?  No.  That was too strange an idea, too cruel and devious for Jim.  Still, the old anguish Jim had taught me to feel flared inside me, as painful as it had ever been.

God damn him! I thought.  I don’t want to feel that way anymore!  No more…

My anger returned, cold and hard as iron, stiffening my whole body.  _Different day,_ I thought furiously, _but he’s still the_ _same old Jim_.  _He’s still making me hurt._

Why had I taken Jim home with me?  Why the hell had I ever let him into my house, into my new, hard-won life?

I sighed to myself.  I knew that answer to that. 

The real mystery was, what the _hell_ was Jim up to?

 

***********************************************************************

The next morning, I watched Artie warily over a cup of coffee.  Artie’s kitchen was sunny and bright, with yellow wallpaper, big porcelain sinks and lots of bright, shiny fixtures.  But Artie’s mood didn’t match them.  He’d been grim and taciturn since we got up.  He’d cooked us breakfast silently, hardly even looking at me.  Staring at his rigid back and taut shoulders, it was hard to believe that he’d ever held me, or confessed that he’d missed me last night.

“Artie—”

“What?”  He rounded on me, looking almost angry.

I blinked at him.  “I just wanted to say, these biscuits taste great.”  That was a lie.  Not the part about the biscuits -- Artie still made some of the best biscuits I’d ever eaten.  It just wasn’t what I wanted to tell him.  But Artie had such a black cloud over his head this morning, I knew I’d have to ease into all of that.

Artie’s shoulders relaxed, and he even smiled; a little sheepishly, I thought.  “Oh.  Thanks, Jim.”

“Coffee’s great too.  I missed your cooking,” I smiled back.

But I wasn’t going to get around Artie with a few compliments.  He obviously had other things on his mind.  He sat down with his own cup of coffee, curled his hands around it, then looked hard into my eyes.  “What’ve you been up to since I last saw you, Jim?”

I almost winced.  I’d known that was coming, but I’d hoped we could at least eat before he started interrogating me.  But Artie was pulling no punches this morning.  His dark eyes pierced mine, until I had to look away.  I shrugged.  “This and that,” I said vaguely.  “I’ve kept busy.”  That was no answer at all, and we both knew it. 

I felt Artie’s disapproval, saw it in the way his hands tightened around his cup.  “Damn it, Jim-”

I had to fight back, and fast. “Why’d you leave, Artie?”

Artie’s eyes narrowed.  “That’s none of your business.”

I leaned back in my chair, relieved at having put him on the defensive for once.  “Well then.  I guess that goes both ways.”

If he wouldn’t tell me the truth, then I didn’t owe it to him either.  Artie’s mouth set in an angry line, and we stared at each other for a minute.  We hadn’t even finished breakfast, but we were already riled up, and at a stalemate. 

I sighed to myself.  Damn it, this wasn’t how I wanted things to go.  I looked away first.  I bent my head and started eating the eggs he’d fixed.  They were good, but I hardly tasted them.  I was busy figuring out my next move.  I figured if I wanted him to open up a little, it wouldn’t hurt to try a bit of that myself.

“I didn’t know you were here, Artie.  But I have been -- looking for you,” I said finally.  I had to give him something, and that was as much as I could safely tell him.  “I missed you, and…”  I swallowed.  “I’d like to start over, if we can.  I’d like –” _to kiss you_ , I wanted to say, so badly that I almost choked holding the words back.  “I’d like us … to be friends again.”

Artie’s eyes thawed a little.  He leaned back and sipped at his coffee slowly.  “We’re still friends, Jim.  At least, I’d like to think so.”

“Good.  That’s good.  That’s settled, then.”  I smiled at him, and he finally raised his own fork to start eating.  But I knew he hadn’t given up on prying answers out of me.  Like me, I knew he was just plotting his next move.  Two old spies, I thought, and had to stifle a grin.  Though we seemed to be sitting quietly eating breakfast, we were really circling each other like army scouts, looking for a weakness.  A way past each other’s defenses.  But I had the advantage.  I had more of the answers I wanted than he did.  I’d heard what Artie wouldn’t say out loud, in that song he’d sung.  I knew how he felt about me; and I wasn’t above using it.

“Artie… that song you sang last night, the one about the blackbird.  That meant something, didn’t it?”

Artie shot a sharp look at me, then looked away, composing his face into a cool expression.  Then he shrugged.  “Maybe to the man who wrote it.”

“No,” I insisted.  “I think it meant something to you; and that you were trying to tell me something with it.  Am I wrong?”

Artie’s mouth tightened, and his eyes darkened.  He took a last sip of coffee, then put his cup down deliberately.  “What if I said you’re not wrong,” he said flatly.  “What do you think it meant, Jim?”

Our eyes met, only Artie’s were blank, flat, giving nothing away. 

I put my coffee down too, and covered his hand with mine gently.  Artie’s hand was cold, and I felt guilty that he’d still feel so apprehensive about this, after all these years. “That you love me,” I said quietly, making my voice as gentle as I could.

Either I wasn’t gentle enough, or Artie thought I was feeling sorry for him or something.  He wrenched his hand away and shot to his feet, agitated.  He turned away, running a hand through his hair.  “As a friend and a partner, yes.  But you already knew that -”

I shook my head.  “Artemus –!”

He spun around again, the coolness gone from his eyes.  But the anguish that replaced it cut at me.  “Well, what do you want me to say, Jim?”

I shook my head again, and got to my feet.  “Nothing.  You don’t have to say anything.”  It was my turn to swallow hard then.  “I came here to tell you something.  To tell you that – that I feel the same.”

Artie stared at me in disbelief.  “ _What_?”

“It’s true.”

He shook his head.  “It isn’t that easy, Jim.”

“ _Easy_?” It was my turn to sound disbelieving.  Nothing had been easy since I’d found him again.  Not one single thing.

Artie threw up his hands.  “Well, you just show up here, after two years, and expect me to believe that you’ve changed that much?”

I crossed my arms over my chest.  “Yeah.  Why else would I be here?”

Artie shook his head again.  “Even if you’re telling the truth, even if you do want me, I don’t think it could ever work between us.”

I set my jaw stubbornly, ignoring the way he’d said ‘if’.  “Why not?”

Artie looked defiant, maybe even a little sad.  “I want an equal, Jim.  Not a master,” he said.

“That’s what you think of me?  You think I want to make you some kind of _slave_?”  What the hell!  I knew Artie was still angry with me, but that wasn’t fair.  It made my own temper rise.  I almost wanted to punch him for it, it was so vile.  But that would’ve just proved his point, so I restrained myself.

Artie shook his head impatiently.  “No, no.  What I mean is –” He stopped, looking embarrassed.  A bit of color flamed in his cheeks. 

Despite the situation, I was glad to see that.  If he was a bit embarrassed, and not so sure of himself, then it meant that I still had a chance to convince him.  “What?” I demanded impatiently, moving close to him.  “What _do_ you mean?”

“I mean that, Jim.  What you just did.”  Artie’s eyes had gone so cold, so dark and icy that they looked like holes in his face. 

That look stopped me cold, and I blinked at him, confused.  I hadn’t really done anything yet, except talk.  “What?”

“It’s your nature,” Artie answered.  “The instant anyone says no to you or gets in your way, you instinctively take it as a challenge; and you move in to take them on.”

“Damn it, Artie!  You make me sound like a predator!” I protested, stung.

“No.  But you’re stubborn and proud, and that drives you to master everything and everyone around you.  You can never take no for an answer, Jim.  You’re better at taking than giving.”

Artie’s words struck me like blows.  The man he was describing was my father -- and I’d never wanted to be like him in any way.  Had I become him anyway, without even realizing it?  “Is that so?” I shot back, angry.  “If I’m such an arrogant bastard, then why do you want me?” 

Artie looked grim.  “I’ve asked myself the same question, many times.”

That hurt, like Artie had cracked a whip across my back.  Stricken, I fell silent.

Artie blinked, and passed a hand over his face.  The darkness left his eyes, and suddenly he just looked weary.  “I’m sorry, Jim.  I didn’t mean that, and it wasn’t fair.  You’re not a bastard; and God knows, I have my faults too.”

I shrugged.  “Guess we both do,” I grated.  Though what he’d said still hurt, I also knew there was some truth to it.  I’d gotten impatient, and moved closer to him.  Maybe I _had_ just instinctively tried to intimidate him.  I was embarrassed.  Was that how Artie saw me?  As aggressive, unyielding and totally selfish?  And was he right?

That thought led me to another, even worse one.  Suddenly, I saw what he was getting at with that recitation of my faults and what he’d said about making him a slave.  “You think I’d never let you take me,” I said slowly, stunned by what he thought of me.  “You think if we -- that I’d expect you to play a woman’s part.”

Artie’s mouth thinned, and the color rose even higher in his cheeks.  But he didn’t argue.  “Something like that, yes.”

I didn’t have any experience with men yet, but I knew he was wrong about that, anyway.  “That’s not what I–” 

“In all the years I’ve known you, Jim, I’ve never seen you bend that stubborn neck unless you were forced to.  Not for anyone.  I don’t want to be the only one doing that in bed.  I want a lover who’s an equal.  And I don’t think you want either of those things, even if you do want me.”

Beneath the regret in his voice was doubt; and that stung too. 

“If?  Jesus, Artie.  You sound like you don’t believe me!  D’you think I’d just use you?  That I wouldn’t stay?”

“Have you ever?” Artie asked coldly.  “Name me one time, in your whole life, that you’ve ever stayed with a lover.”

_Damn it._

I thought I’d left my rage behind, hundreds of miles and many months ago.  But at that, something inside of me broke.  A red, raw, ugly feeling rose in my chest.  To Hell with being patient, with giving Artie what he wanted.  I’d had enough of this.  Artie hadn’t been kind since I’d found him.  He’d been cold and distant.  He’d hardly even touched me, or let me touch him.  He’d pushed and pushed, goading and insulting me.  After all I’d gone through trying to find him again, for him to hold me at arm’s length like this after almost two long years, to keep saying he thought so little of me…

Suddenly, I couldn’t take anymore.

“So.  I’m totally faithless, am I, Artie?  Not to be trusted?  That’s funny, coming from you.  I stayed with you for _six years_ , didn’t I?  And that was when we were just friends!” I hissed. 

The next thing I knew, I had Artie by the shoulders.  I pushed hard, forcing him backwards, keeping him stumbling, off balance.  “And the only reason I just had to spend almost _two years_ tracking you down, was because you left without one word to me!  _You left!”_ I roared, beside myself.  “Without even telling me what was wrong!”  I pushed him again, and Artie let me, looking pale and guilty.  “You never said a word about how you felt!  You never gave me a chance, you just took off!  And you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since I found you!  _So which of us is the faithless one, Artemus_?” 

So much for all the promises I’d made to myself not to get angry, or to manhandle Artie.  I was shouting, and I’d backed him up against the wall.  I curled my hands around his shoulders, pinning him there.  I could feel his muscles through his thin shirt, and I secretly enjoyed the bulk and strength of him even while I glared at him, breathing hard.  Despite my fury, it felt so good to touch him that I couldn’t stop.

Surprisingly, Artie didn’t get angry, or try to push me away.  He just lifted a dark brow coolly.  “Now, _that’s_ the James I know,” he muttered wryly.

“ _What?_ ”

“Nothing,” he sighed.  He looked tired suddenly, almost defeated.  “What I mean is, you’re right.  What you said about me, that is.  Leaving like that … It was wrong of me, James, and I’m sorry. ”

Oh.  I’d been so angry, my chest was heaving.  But his apology stunned me.  I’d never expected to hear Artie say he was sorry for leaving me, and it totally took the wind out of my sails.  Banished my anger in an instant.  I fell silent, trying to catch my breath and gather my wits.  I knew I should let go of him, but Artie hadn’t objected to my touch, so I held onto him and just waited.

Artie lowered his head and swallowed hard, like he had a lump in his throat.  “I just … couldn’t see what else to do.  I thought – I thought you’d come to hate me if I stayed.”

Jesus.  I hated hearing the pain in his voice, hated that I’d caused it even more.  I remembered why Artie had left then, how I’d driven him to it; and I felt guilty all over again.  I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be pushing him around, either.  Artie was more than capable of pushing back, and I was trying to win him back, not start a fight. 

I just shook my head and looked down, half afraid I’d say the wrong thing again.  I managed to let go of Artie’s shoulders at last, but found myself unable to move away from him.  My hands drifted back to him in spite of me.  I tried to cover my longing by straightening his lapels gently.  “I don’t know where you get these ideas, Artemus.”  I joked a little, to cover how deeply he’d touched me, then smiled at him.  “I could never hate you.  Never.”

Artie searched my eyes.  His face filled with relief so intense, it almost looked like wonder.  “Thanks, Jim.”  His voice was so low, it was almost a whisper.

I had to look away again.  Artie looking at me like that made me feel –

I stepped back a bit, and let him go reluctantly.  I tried to start over again.  “Don’t thank me,” I said gruffly.  “I was an idiot.  I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me the truth.  Besides… as far as women go, you’re right,” I grated.  “I never stayed.”  It wasn’t an easy thing for me to say, but Artie had been honest, had even said he was sorry.  I could do no less.  What Artie didn’t realize, though, was that I’d never cared enough about any woman to do that for her.  He was different.  I’d just ridden through seven states and hundreds of long, lonely miles, just to talk to him.  When it came to him, I was the exact opposite of faithless.  I had to set him straight about me. 

“But you’re not a woman, Artie.  You’re my best friend.  I’d never do that to you.  I’d never use you, and then just walk away.”  It was as far as I could go, to tell him how I felt.  He’d claimed that I was a selfish man, but I was trying not to be, with him.  I didn’t want to use my quest to find him to get him to admit his feelings for me.   

Artie didn’t reply.  He just looked at me, and that sadness was still in his eyes. 

“You still don’t believe me, do you.”

After a moment, Artie shook his head.  “I’m sorry if I’ve been … cold to you, James,” he said at last.  “I think your intentions are good.”  His mouth twisted wryly.  “But the road to Hell, as they say, is paved with those.”

I stared at him, frustrated, not knowing what else to do.  I didn’t know what to say to convince him that we’d be good together, that I wouldn’t be the selfish, faithless man I had been in the past.  Not with him.

Finally, Artie looked away.  He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time.  “I have music lessons to give.  I should be done by about four o’clock.  If you can amuse yourself for awhile, after that, I’ll make you some supper.”

I could hear the regret in his voice.  He seemed to think we were done talking about being lovers.

I had no intention of letting it go at that.  Now that I’d touched Artie again, gotten close to him, I knew I couldn’t settle for what I’d originally intended to do when I found him again.  I couldn’t just tell him that I was sorry and then leave.  I had to try for more, for Artie himself, or be lonely for the rest of my life.  But I was done arguing for now.  I needed some time to come up with something else, some other way to win him over.

“All right,” I said evenly.  “Sounds good.”  I’d play nice -- for the moment.  But I was far from done with trying to get Artie for my lover.  I meant to use the food as fuel, to stoke up my inner fires for our next clash over it.  I stared at him, desire rising in me while I thought about it.

Artie narrowed his eyes at me.  “Jim?” 

“What?”

“Quit looking so fierce.  You’ll scare my students,” he said wryly.

I rolled my eyes, and smiled a little.  “All right then.  I think I’ll go out, take a little ride.  Maybe go into Denver for awhile.”

Artie slanted a wry look at me as he turned away.  “Try to play nice, Jim.”

I knew what he meant.  After our argument, he thought I was headed for a saloon, and maybe a fight.  A few months ago, he would've been right.  But now that I'd found Artie, I wasn't interested in that.  I was already planning the next step in his seduction; and for that, I needed new clothes.  I’d been practically living in the ones I was wearing for weeks, and they weren’t good enough.  They were meant for riding hard, or ranch work.  The things I’d been doing before I found him.  They weren’t fit to impress a lover, especially one as sophisticated as Artie.  I couldn’t court Artie dressed like a cowhand.

But I wasn’t going to tell him that, either.  This was one card I was keeping up my sleeve, for now.  I put on my hat, and tipped it to a jaunty angle.  “You know me,” I grinned, as I headed for the door.

Let him think what he would about why I was heading into town.  As long as he was thinking about me. 

 

****************************************************************************

 

After Artie was done teaching and we’d both eaten supper and done the dishes, we both sat down in Artie’s parlor.  I smiled to myself, thinking of the new clothes I’d just bought.  Two new shirts, one a crisp white, the other a pale blue that matched my eyes. Two pairs of pants, one black, one blue and matching jackets.  Two fancy new waistcoats, one in blue and silver, the other blue and gold.  A new black hat, and even a new pair of black boots.  One good thing about big cities like Denver, you could get fine clothes at a moment’s notice.  As long as you were prepared to pay handsomely for them, anyway.  I’d paid for them all gladly.  Artie was more than worth it.  I’d probably gotten a bit carried away, but I didn’t just want Artie to notice me -- I _needed_ him to.

“Okay if I take a bath tonight, Artie?”

“Sure.  There’s a pump out back.  I can –”

“That’s okay.  I’ll haul the water in later,” I told him, smiling to myself because that bath was the next step in my campaign to win Artie.

“All right.”  Artie nodded, then picked up a book and soon lost himself in it. 

 

**************************************************************************

That night, I took a long hot bath in a big tub of Artie’s, relishing the hot water I'd heated for it.  I laid back, letting the heat soak into every muscle, and imagining how arousing it would be if I could convince Artie to climb in with me.  I knew it wasn't going to happen, given Artie’s mood.  But I thought of it anyway – Artie’s face flushed a bit with the heat, his dark hair curling around his damp face, his dark eyes heated while he touched me…

Just like that, I was hard.  I smiled a bit at my own eagerness, but didn’t try to relieve myself.  It could wait.  I wanted to wait, wait for Artie to see me in my new clothes.  Wait for him to reach out to me, to want me back.

But Artie was still angry.  I could feel it, could see it underneath everything he said and did.  Though I hadn’t really expected that, I didn’t blame him, either.  I figured it was partly why he’d turned me down, when I’d tried to tell him how I felt about him.  I knew I’d done plenty to deserve it.  I just wasn’t sure what it would take to get past it, but my new clothes were a start.  Artie loved finery almost as much as I did.  There was no question that he’d notice that I’d dressed up.  I just hoped he’d be pleased.

I decided to shave off my beard and moustache, too.  I smiled to myself, imagining Artie’s face when I appeared at the breakfast table tomorrow, freshly shaved and dressed to the nines.

Would he just think it was like old times?  Would he wonder if I’d done it for a woman?  Or would he guess that it was all for him, and finally give me the kiss I'd been dreaming of?

 

**************************************************************************

I dressed carefully the next morning, in my new blue shirt, blue and silver vest, and black pants and boots.  I shaved off my moustache and beard, combed my hair, then checked my reflection in the bedroom mirror.

I looked good, I thought.  More like my old self, the well-dressed Secret Service agent Artie used to work with.  I winked at myself for luck, then headed for the kitchen, feeling cheerful.  I could already smell Artie’s cooking.

But all my efforts were for nothing.  When I got there, I found that Artie was already gone.  A note sitting on a covered plate of eggs, bacon and biscuits on the table said that he had several music lessons to give in town, so he wouldn’t be back until much later. 

“Damn it,” I muttered, aggravated by this unexpected obstacle to my plans.  I frowned, thinking about his note.  Didn’t Artie usually give music lessons here at his house?  He had yesterday, anyway.  I had no way of knowing if he always did, but I wondered if he’d just left today to avoid me.  My disappointment was so sharp that for a second, I thought of riding into town, to see if I could find him.  Fortunately, common sense prevailed.  If Artie had wanted company, he’d’ve woke me before he left.  Since he hadn’t, he clearly didn’t want me along.  And how would it look, if I rode into town after him without a good reason?

Besides, maybe I was wrong.  Maybe he wasn’t really avoiding me, but just doing what he usually did, where he sometimes did it.  And though I wouldn’t have minded watching him give music lessons, he might’ve just assumed that I’d be bored, tagging along for that.

I felt a bit better, but still disappointed that I didn’t get to show off my new finery.  I sat down to eat, wondering what I could do in his absence.  I was far too restless to just sit around waiting for Artie to come back.

I decided to go for a ride.  Check out the surrounding countryside, and maybe talk to some of Artie’s neighbors, if I could.  See what I could find out about his new life here.  A wicked smile curved my mouth.  _Once a Secret Service agent, always a Secret Service agent_.  I still remembered how to charm information out of people so smoothly that they hardly realized they’d been pumped for it.  So if I happened to ask if Artie was squiring anyone around while I talked to his neighbors, well – who could blame me?

I went back to my room, cheered by the thought that I could use this time away from him to gather information about Artie’s new life, without him knowing what I was up to. 

 _If Artie didn’t want me to snoop around_ , I thought with a grin, _then he shouldn’t have snuck out and left me to my own devices_.

I changed out of my new clothes, back into my old dungarees and blue work shirt, and went out to Artie’s little barn, where he kept his horse and a few chickens in a coop.  Flame lifted his head and nickered gladly, as soon as I came in.

“Hey, boy.  At least someone’s glad to see me,” I smiled wryly.

Judging by the empty bucket near his stall and the bit of feed left on the ground, Artie had already fed all his animals.  But Flame’s coat was looking a bit dirty, and since I had nothing but unexpected time on my hands, I decided to curry him before I took him out.  I dug my comb and brush out of my saddlebag and set to work.  First some grooming, then I could go. 

**********************************************************************************

It was early evening before Artie got back.

I’d changed back into my fine new clothes by then, and was prowling restlessly up and down his parlor when I finally heard him ride up.  I patted my hair into place one last time, and waited impatiently for him to come inside.

**********************************************************************************

Artie walked into his house just after six that night.  Tired from a long day of teaching, he wondered what he could expect from Jim, after leaving him alone all day without any warning.  What he found wasn’t what he’d expected.

When he walked in his front door, his head came up at the unexpected smell of cooking.  Eggs, he thought, his lips automatically curling into a smile.  And coffee, and fresh biscuits!  Now, that's a pleasant surprise he thought, his stomach growling appreciatively.

As Artie went past the parlor door, heading eagerly for his kitchen, Jim called out to him.  “Hey, Artie.  Long time, no see,” he teased.

Artie halted, startled.  “Jim, I didn’t –” _see you there_ , he started to say.  But he fell silent when he spotted Jim.  Jim stood in the middle of his parlor, completely transformed.  He’d shaved off his beard and moustache, combed his hair and was wearing a brand new, expensive outfit.  Silky white shirt, silver and blue waistcoat, tight blue pants and jacket…  Artie was so surprised, his mouth almost dropped open.  Jim looked splendid, just like the cocky young peacock of a Secret Service man Artie had met years ago.  And so handsome that Artie instantly longed to kiss him, just as he always had back then. 

A wave of nostalgia swept over him, memories of years of their escapades filling his mind as he stared at his former partner.  His lips wanted to curve into an appreciative smile, but he stopped them.  He wanted to whistle at Jim, but restrained himself as an old sadness filled his heart.  He remembered why Jim had always loved to dress up:  for the ladies.  For all he knew, Jim had already met a woman here.  I was gone all day after all, he thought sarcastically.  That’s plenty of time for Jim to charm half of the women in Denver.  Hell, all of them, probably.

“Well,” he just said flatly at last.  “You’ve been busy, James.”

Jim’s face fell a bit.  Clearly, he’d expected a better response to his finery than that.  He looked away, his jaw hardening.  “Yeah, well.  I got tired of looking like some cowhand,” he said tersely.

Artie felt a brief flicker of shame.  Jim had obviously gone to a good deal of effort today.  He’d shaved, bought new clothes, and changed his whole appearance.  And from the smell of things, Jim had even cooked dinner for him too.  Simple things, granted, just eggs, biscuits and coffee, but there was nothing wrong with simple fare, and it was all Jim had ever learned to cook.  Why he’d gone to all this trouble, Artie didn’t know, but he hadn’t been kind at all in return. 

He probably didn’t get prettied up for my sake, Artie reminded himself bitterly.  Jim’s probably just getting ready to ride into Denver for the evening to pick up some woman, or even find a whore.

Pain lanced through him, an old pain he’d hoped that he’d never have to feel again.  He fought the urge to say something downright nasty.  But he knew that wouldn’t be fair, especially since he’d avoided Jim all day.  He should’ve known what he’d do.  Finally, he forced himself to say, “You look good, Jim.  You heading into town tonight?”

Apparently, it was too little, too late.  Jim brushed past him with a slight scowl.  “No.  Let’s eat,” he practically growled.

“Sure.  Let’s,” Artie sighed to himself as he followed Jim down his hallway.  He’d just lost his appetite.  This was why he’d left the Wanderer after all, to get away from all this.  Now Jim had brought it all back.  How could he expect him to be grateful for that?

***************************************************************************

After supper, I took out my knife to whittle a piece of wood I’d picked up in my travels.  I’d cooled off a bit by then, gotten over my disappointment at Artie’s cool reaction to the way I’d shaved and dressed up for him.  At least he noticed it, I thought wryly, even if he assumed I'd done it for some woman.  But I could've sworn that his eyes had heated for a second, when he first saw me.  That was something, anyway.  And wars weren’t won in one battle, but over time.  I’d have other chances to catch Artie’s eye.  At least I’d learned, in my little recon mission today, that Artie’s neighbors liked him, but didn’t know much about him – except that he seemed “an eligible bachelor”.  I hadn’t liked the gleam I’d seen in several women’s eyes when they said that, but I did like the fact that at least Artie hadn’t had anyone else living with him here.  That would’ve surely caused a scandal, which his neighbors would’ve heard.  So if he’d had lovers in Denver, they must’ve been casual ones who didn’t live with him. 

 _Good_ , I thought, smiling secretly.

I pretended to lose myself in working the wood, but fairly soon, I gave in to temptation and looked over at Artie while I whittled.  He sat reading silently, looking calm, cool and unapproachable.  I smiled a little to myself.  Some things never changed.  Artie had always loved books, and there’d always been something about watching him read at night while the Wanderer chugged along through the darkness, taking us to our next case, that I’d loved.  Artie had such a brilliant mind, and his tastes in reading ranged widely, from obscure scientific tracts, to poetry, to Shakespeare.  Seeing him with his nose buried in a book again made me realize something.

_I watched him even back when we were on the Wanderer.  I’ve been watching him since we first met._

And even back then, being with Artie had made me feel at home. 

Love mixed with pain at that memory.  We were finally together again, but still not close enough -- not yet, anyway.  I wanted to shake Artie, to move him, to muss up his hair and crack his infernal calm.  Most of all, I didn’t want Artie across the room from me; I wanted him so close that I could touch him.  Or better yet, in my arms.  But I had something more important to figure out first. 

I had to convince him that I could be his lover and that I belonged in his bed, before he got annoyed with me and asked me to leave.  I’d already tried telling him he was wrong about my faithlessness, but words hadn’t convinced him, and even cleaning myself up and wearing fancy clothes for him hadn’t done the trick. 

I decided that I needed to change tactics.  It was time to get physical.  I’d always been better at actions than words, anyway.  I’d mulled it over during supper, but hadn’t come up with any new ideas.  I could try to kiss him, the way I’d been wanting to; but that was too crude a ploy.  Enjoyable though I knew it would be, it wouldn’t be enough to convince Artie.  No.  For him, I’d need something big.  Something difficult, something he’d never expect…

While I carved, I thought about what Artie had said about me.  How I was proud and stubborn, and never bent my neck for anyone without being forced to.  It still stung.  I dug the knife into the wood deeply, taking out my resentment while I tried to make up a plan.

I hacked at the wood for awhile.  Then finally, the answer came to me.  I knew what to do to break the stalemate between us.  I had to show Artie I could do what he wanted:  be his lover, not his master.  I had to show him that I could give, not just take.  I needed to show him that I could bend; and thanks to him, I knew just how to do that. 

I’d use Artie’s own words against him.

It was all I could do not to smile like a cat that’d swallowed a canary.  I knew my plan was risky.  But if I didn’t try something, I’d lose Artie.  So I had no choice. 

I had to take care how I went about it, though.  I’d pushed Artie before, I’d snapped at him, and he’d accused me of trying to intimidate him, while his eyes had frosted over with cold anger.  I knew better than to make that mistake again. 

I put down the knife and the wood I’d been whittling, and brushed the wood shavings off my hands.  “Artie,” I said quietly.  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.  What is it?”  Artie stood up and came towards me.  I put down my whittling and moved forward slowly, holding his gaze, like he was a horse who might spook.  Artie’s eyes narrowed a bit in confusion, but he didn’t draw back.  He seemed to have lost the fear he’d had of me at first.  Good.  I kept going until I was only a few inches away from him.  Artie didn’t smile, he just watched me.  His dark eyes looked mysterious, fathomless, and for a second, I almost shivered.  I wasn’t sure if I was fixing things, or about to blow our friendship all to hell.  But some risks are worth taking; and this one meant everything to me.

Reaching out slowly, I took Artie’s hand.  When my fingers closed over his, his eyes widened.  I held his hand gently but firmly, refusing to let go, or to let him look away.  “Artemus,” I murmured, smiling while I laced our fingers together.  I let my affection for him warm my voice until it turned deep and husky, and stroked the side of his hand with my thumb.  Artie’s eyes got even wider, and I knew he’d gotten the message.  Better still, he didn’t pull away.  He just stood there staring at me, like he couldn’t believe what I was doing, that I was still trying, though he'd turned me down earlier.

Hope rushed through me, so sharp it almost hurt.  _Believe it, partner_ , I thought; _and just wait.  It’s about to get a whole lot better_ … I knew better than to smile or act cocky just yet, though.  Nothing would make Artie run further or faster.  I had a better plan. 

But it wasn’t an easy one.  I let go of Artie’s hand, but then I stopped.  My own body betrayed me, my instincts screaming that what I planned to do was wrong.  My muscles froze, rebelling against it.  It was too much like surrender, something I’d never done for anyone.  Now that the time had come to act, to show him what he meant to me, I couldn’t move.  I just stood there like someone had nailed my boots to Artie’s floor.

Then I remembered all those long, bleak days and nights I’d spent trying to find him.  How endless they’d seemed, and how empty my life had been without him.  How truly, achingly alone I’d felt.  I remembered my dreams about Artie, too.  Nothing in my life had ever felt so right as touching and kissing him had in those dreams.  I had to do this.  This was my last chance to change things, to bring us together – to make those dreams come true. 

So why couldn’t I move?  In a flash, I realized how right Artie had been about me.  It was just pride, my own stubborn pride.  My instinct not to give in, never to yield.  Deep down, some part of me was afraid of loving Artie like this.  Afraid it would make me less of a man.

But pride had never warmed me on all those long, cold nights without him.  And all my defenses had done was drive Artie away.  I’d already rejected him once, without even meaning to.  If I did so again, this time knowing full well that he loved me, I’d lose him forever. 

I realized something then.  Loving Artie hadn’t made me any less of a man.  It was losing him and having to live without him that’d driven me half crazy.  And that was when I thought I had some hope of getting him back again.  If I lost him for good...

Though I could survive without Artie, I didn’t want to.   I'd had almost two years of that joyless kind of existence, and I suspected Artie had been unhappy, too.  I wanted to make things better for both of us, but in order to do that, I needed him to trust me again.

 _Move, damn it.  Do it, or you'll lose him_.

That thought drove me to my knees with a shiver.  I sank down swiftly and silently.  Once there, I bowed my head slowly until my neck was bared.  Then I held still, offering myself to Artie silently, like some sacrifice at the feet of a pagan god. 

Artie shifted, startled; and I heard him suck in a breath of pure astonishment.  “ _Jim_!”

I couldn’t answer.  It wasn’t easy, humbling myself like that.  I’d never given up control willingly like that before, had never made myself so vulnerable for anyone.  Despite my resolve, I felt my face flush with embarrassment.  Once I was on my knees, it took all my self control to stay there.

A silence fell between us, a breathless hush.  Artie didn’t move, but I could feel his gaze burning on the back of my neck like a caress, like he’d put his hand there to claim me.  When I imagined that, the weight of Artie’s hand on my neck, the warmth and strength of it, the world tilted unexpectedly around me.  It was strange, but the thought that I was totally in Artie’s power swept over me like a wave of fire.  Artie could do anything to me, anything – and I’d let him.

 _I wanted him to_.

I suddenly realized, I was getting hard.  In a life filled with danger and excitement, nothing had ever excited me as much as this.  Kneeling for him like this, worshipping at Artie’s feet in this forbidden way, was wildly arousing.  Knowing that Artie was watching me, _wanting_ me, made me ache.  Lust coiled in my belly and thighs, and I hardened painfully fast.  I’d thought I’d wanted Artie before, but this was desire like I’d never known.  No woman had ever made me burn like this.  My heart was beating hard, so hard it made my whole body tremble.  And I didn’t even care if he saw it. 

Maybe I hoped he would…

The silence seemed to stretch out forever, but I forced myself to stay silent.  I didn’t move or speak.  I just knelt there, hard and aching, feeling Artie’s eyes on me like a hot caress.  This was Artie’s show now.  He held all the power.

I waited, my heart beating like thunder, to see if he’d accept or reject me.

 

*************************

Silently, with one lithe, graceful move, Jim dropped to his knees in front of me.  Then he bent forward further still, baring his neck. 

I gaped at him in total astonishment.  Jim was offering himself to me.  Offering me everything he was.  _On his knees_.

I blinked, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.  _You’ve never bent your neck for anyone -- not unless you were forced to_.  Those were the words I’d just hurled at Jim; and in all the years I’d known him, they’d been true. 

But not anymore.  James West, the proudest, strongest, handsomest man I’d ever known, now knelt at my feet like a slave, his body bent in a graceful curve.  He’d thrown my own words back at me, in the most stunning way imaginable.  And yet…  Anyone else would’ve looked submissive like that.  James looked like a wild cat; all sinuous, barely leashed power.  Even on his knees, with his neck bent, Jim looked dangerous.  Lethal as a panther poised to spring.

I’d never seen anything so erotic in my whole life. 

All his muscle, all his strength, his proud heart, his courage, sharp intelligence and sensuality coiled up at my feet, mine to command.  Mine to _take_.  It was stunning and unbearably arousing.  I’d just told Jim that I didn’t want a master, but it seemed that part of me loved the idea of mastering _him_.  The instant he knelt at my feet, desire that I’d been forced to suppress for years exploded, surging through me with stunning force.  After all these years, I could finally have what I wanted most:  James.  Half drunk with the impact of his beautiful, shocking submission, my heart started to pound, my cock throbbed and my mind filled with carnal images.  I could take Jim right there on the floor.  Thrust into him, make him moan, make him cry out—

The sight of Jim’s surrender was so powerful for a dizzying moment, sex was all I could think about.  But then, underneath my surge of desire, something deeper than sex whispered to me.  Was I getting this all wrong?  Was Jim trying to say something else to me, something much deeper than lust?  Something that I’d been waiting years to hear?

Oh, God.  _James_ …

 

***********************************************************************************

 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Artie moved.  I could hear him breathing faster as he came to me.  His breath was hot on my neck, but his hand was gentle as he reached down to me. 

“James, my boy.”  I’d never heard Artie sound so tender.  I knew I’d moved him, and I was glad.  I could hear Artie breathing fast, and I knew I’d aroused him, too.  That made me feel like a king.  When he touched my shoulder, I could feel his hand shaking.  I shivered too, like his touch was a kiss.  “Get up, please.”

I stayed where I was, my head down, so Artie wouldn’t see the triumph that flushed my face.  It’d worked!  I wanted to pull Artie down to me and kiss him; but I knew it was too soon.  Despite my arousal, I reined myself in tightly and didn’t move.

“C’mon.”  Artie tugged at me, murmuring soothing things.  “Get up, Jim.  I don’t need this.  You don’t have to kneel to me.  I’m not –”

But I was sick of words, and I’d never liked it when anyone tried to soothe me.  I knew how to make Artie stop talking, and to remind him what this meant.  I grabbed his hand, turned it over, and pressed a hot kiss into his palm. 

Artie sucked in a ragged breath, his hand shaking.  That sound, the way he responded to me in spite of himself, sent a fierce joy surging through me.  The knowledge that I was finally getting to him, finally breaking through the cool distance he’d kept between us since I’d found him again, acted on me like the sweet, intoxicating burn of good whisky.  He’s _mine_ , I thought greedily.  _Mine_! 

Touching him, kissing him felt so good I couldn’t stop.  I pressed more kisses into his palm, even darted my tongue out to taste the flavor of his skin.  Artie shivered hard, like he couldn’t help himself.  But he didn’t pull away.  It was all I could do not to grin in triumph.  It wouldn’t do to crow too soon, though.  Artie’s body told me he wanted me, but I figured I wasn’t done seducing him yet.  Artie hadn’t taken me up on my offer, which meant that he was still fighting it.  I kept my head bowed over his hand, my neck bent.

“Anything, Artie,” I said, my voice low and even huskier than before.  “Don’t you know now?  Anything you want, anything – I’ll give it to you.  I’d do anything for you.”

***************************************************************

“Anything, Artie.  Don’t you know now?  Anything you want, anything – I’ll give it to you.  I’d do anything for you.”

Jim’s words were unbelievable.  The fulfillment of all my dreams about him.  And the feel of his mouth on my hand, his kiss on my palm…  I shivered with wonder and desire -- especially since Jim had said and done all that on his knees. 

I opened my mouth to tell him that I believed him, and that I’d always loved him.  But something stopped me.  Not what Jim had said, but _how_.  I suddenly realized where I’d heard his low, husky tone before – it was Jim’s seductive voice.  The one he always used on his women.  My head spun.  Was that all this was?  Not the love I wanted, and hoped that Jim might’ve come to feel for me at last, but just one more casual seduction in a long line of them?

Doubt chilled me.  I knew, I’d always known how inconstant Jim was.  I wavered, not knowing what to think.  He seemed so sincere; and he’d shocked the hell out of me, kneeling to me as he had.  I’d thought he’d been trying to tell me that we could be equals in bed, that he’d bend for me too.  For a heady moment, I’d thought that he might’ve even been trying to show me that he loved me.  That he’d _stay_.

But a small part of me just couldn’t quite believe it.  Jim was a practiced seducer, after all – and he knew me better than anyone.  Was he just toying with me, even now?  Trying to seduce me, then leave me, like he did all his women?  A little voice in my head whispered, _Jim knows I’m an actor.  He knew just what kind of dramatic gesture would get to me._   _No doubt he always made his women believe that he felt something for them, too.  Caroline Thrace probably felt just like this.  But he left her and never even once looked back_.

The thought that Jim might just be playing games with me, and that he’d dare to treat me as lightly as all the women he’d slept with, made me furious.  All the pain I’d felt during those torturous years when we’d been partners returned with a vengeance, making my heart pound, filling my head with red, raw rage.  To Hell with him – to Hell with this!  I wasn't going to be played with or tricked. 

“Damn you,” I choked, so far past any hope of self control that I felt almost giddy.  Before I knew it, I’d reached down with my free hand and grabbed his chin roughly.  I pulled his head up, forcing him to look at me.  Jim didn’t say anything.  He didn’t fight me, didn’t try to pull away or get up.  He just narrowed his eyes a little and searched mine.

Perversely, his calmness only fed my fury.  “Anything, huh?  Even _that_ ,” I growled.  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want that from you?  That maybe I don’t want _anything_ from you?  I’ve been doing just fine here without you, Jim!”  That was both true and untrue.  I’d built a good life for myself, but it was still a lonely one.  I’d never gotten over Jim.

Some unknown emotion flickered in Jim’s blue eyes.  I told myself it was surprise, rather than pain.

My mouth curved bitterly.  “What did you think?” I snapped, seething with the pain of old wounds.  “That even after two years, because you’re the great James West, that you could just crook your finger and I’d come crawling?  Is that it?”

Jim shook his head.  “No.  I’m the one on my knees here, Artie,” he pointed out.  Despite my harshness, my anger, his voice was almost mild, like we were discussing the weather.  Though his eyes were riveted to mine, he was still maddeningly calm.  But he held himself carefully still, not moving a muscle.  Almost like I was a dangerous animal that he didn’t dare anger.

Jim was right, of course.  About both things.  He was the one who’d humbled himself; but because I couldn’t trust that, it only made me even angrier.  “Why would I want you?  Do you know what you did to me, Jim?”  My fingers tightened on his jaw.  “What caring for you did to me?  Do you know what I used to do, when I went on vacation without you?”

For a second, I saw confusion in Jim’s pale blue eyes.  Whatever he’d expected from me after his grand gesture, it wasn’t this.  His brow furrowed.  “No, I --”

But I ignored his bewilderment.  Maybe I was even a little glad of it.  God knew, he’d hurt me enough.  I cut him off ruthlessly.  “I wanted you so much, it made me half crazy.  But you didn’t want me.  You were too busy chasing skirts.  Every woman who so much as looked at you!   And they all looked, didn’t they, Jim?  Women _and_ men.  _Everyone._   Even me.”

“Artie –”

Jim’s voice was so gentle, I couldn’t bear it.  I almost spat at him.  “ _Especially_ me!  I got so sick of looking, but being unable to touch you that when I took vacations alone, I used to try to find men who looked like you.  Whores!” I hissed, my heart pounding with a sick mixture of exhilaration and rage.  “I took them, because I was so –”

 _In love with you_ , I wanted to say, but even now, somehow I couldn’t.  I’d never said those words to him.  And though Jim was on his knees now, and he’d promised me the world, I still couldn't say it because I didn’t trust him.  “I paid them to be quiet while I did it.  Told them not to talk, so I could pretend they were you.  _That_ was what you did to me,” I finished bitterly instead.  “So why would I want you?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop, in the silence that fell between us after that.

Jim’s blue eyes widened.  At first, I thought the emotion filling them was shock, and my heart sank.  The crazy exhilaration I’d felt at finally telling him the truth ebbed away, taking most of my anger with it.  All I had left was the sick feeling, like lead in my belly.

I’d finally done it.  Finally, after all these years of holding it in, I’d told Jim the truth.  Well, part of it anyway.  The worst part.  I knew he’d guessed long ago that I wanted him, but he’d probably never even dreamt of the lengths I’d gone to, to satisfy my hunger for him.

 _Even if he hates me now_ , I thought, _at least he knows who I really am_.

But oh, even that small bit of comfort was bitter.  Because now that Jim knew who I was and what I’d done, surely he’d leave me.

I let him go finally.  No point in holding onto Jim any longer, was there?

Jim opened his mouth, and I braced myself for a cutting reply, steadied myself for his rejection.  It was nothing new, really.  I’d been living with that ever since he’d pushed me away that day on the Wanderer.  I wondered dully if he’d hit me now.  If I’d let him.  After what I’d just told him, I had no doubt I’d lost him for good.  But I’d had a lot of practice living without him now, too.  So when he got done yelling or punching me and left, that would be nothing new either.

I tried to tell myself that, anyway.  But I’d left him once, just so we’d never have this conversation.  Because somewhere deep down, I knew that hearing revulsion and scorn pour from Jim’s beautiful mouth before he left me forever would scar me for the rest of my days.  Worse than his fists could, if he hit me.  That was why I hadn’t wanted to bring him here, when he'd showed up so unexpectedly.  I’d known it would end like this.  Given who I was and how I loved him, how could it not?

But Jim didn’t heap excoriations on my guilty head.  He didn’t try to hit me, and he didn’t get up to leave, either.  He just stayed there on his knees, looking up at me gravely.  I saw him swallow hard.  But then, with his eyes locked on mine, Jim said simply, “I don’t know why you would.  I’m sorry, Artie.”  His voice was still low, but its seductive purr had utterly vanished.  

“I didn’t know.”  Jim’s face had turned somber – but not disgusted.  If anything, he looked pained.  Sad, even guilty.  He went on haltingly, “I was blind.  I didn’t see how you felt.  I never thought…  I’m so sorry.”  

I just stared at him, stunned.  Jim wasn’t revolted, wasn’t sickened by my sordid confession.  He hadn’t blown up at me or walked out.  Instead, he’d apologized -- _on his knees --_ for not realizing that I’d been in love with him when we were partners!  I could hardly take it in.

Jim was still talking.  “-- sorry I made you so unhappy.  That I made you leave.  I never meant to.”

Suddenly, the full import of his words hit me.  His amazing, unexpected apology had blinded me, for a moment, to a larger truth.  _I didn’t know,_ Jim had said.  _I didn’t see it_. 

His obvious sincerity, his unexpected sympathy and heartfelt apology should’ve made me happy.  Instead, I felt like the ground had opened up under my feet.

Jim hadn’t known I’d left him because of unrequited love.  He’d never guessed at that. 

_He never knew how I felt about him!_

A roaring noise filled my head.  I think I swayed on my feet.  I’d been so sure that he knew about me, so certain that he’d pushed me away that day on the train because it revolted him.  I’d been convinced that he’d lost all respect for me…  I’d been so sure I’d already lost everything, that I’d left him while Jim lay innocently sleeping.  After years of being his best friend, his _partner_ , I’d left him without a goodbye, without even so much as a word. 

“You – you didn’t know –” I choked, hardly knowing what I was saying. 

Jim frowned at me in confusion.  “What?”  
I couldn’t answer.  I couldn’t even speak.  The pain of it seized me, made it hard to breathe.  I thought of the last two years, of all my lonely, aimless wandering after I’d left him.  The rivers of whiskey I’d drunk, the games I’d played, the women I’d toyed with, all the different faces and names I’d gone through – all in a vain effort to forget Jim.  It had been such a dark time, I’d nearly lost myself.  But it’d all been for _nothing_!  I hadn't needed to leave him at all!  Jim hadn't despised me, he hadn’t even known how I felt!

 _Christ_.  The blood rushed away from my head, leaving me feeling faint.  I’d been such a fool!  I’d been so full of guilt about my secret that I’d read too much into Jim’s actions.  His curiosity about my vacations, the questions he’d asked, the way he’d pushed me away after he was shot...  I thought he’d figured it out, that he’d guessed the truth about me.  But he hadn’t.

I could hardly believe what an idiot I’d been, what a terrible thing I’d done.  I’d given up so much, left behind everything I loved, hurt the best friend I'd ever had – for nothing!  I’d been _wrong_.  It had all been a terrible mistake!

I let go of Jim and stumbled backward.  I tried not to let the dreadful realization show on my face, but I had to blink rapidly against the hot tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.  

“Artie?  What’s wrong?” 

I heard Jim dimly, as if from a distance.  He sounded almost frightened, I thought.  But I still couldn’t answer him.  My head was still ringing from the blow he’d inadvertently dealt me.  God, what had I done?

It wasn’t Jim who’d been blind, I thought bleakly.  It wasn’t him who should’ve been on his knees, apologizing. 

 _It was me_. 

***********************************************************************************

Artie let me go all at once.  He stepped back, his face suddenly ashen, as if I’d struck him.

I didn’t understand it.  I knew he’d been trying to drive me away with his angry confession, but he hadn’t.  Nothing could do that.  If anything, I felt guilty about what he’d said.  Ashamed that I’d made him so unhappy, that he’d had to turn to whores who looked like me for comfort.  Ashamed that he’d felt he couldn’t tell me the truth, too.  Worst of all, I knew that if Artie had worked up the courage to tell me how he felt about me back then, I probably wouldn’t’ve taken it well. 

“Artie?  What’s wrong?”  I surged back up onto my feet, but Artie didn’t answer me. 

Terror shot through me.  The last time I’d seen such an awful look on Artie’s face, he’d left me.  But he wouldn’t be the one to go this time.  He’d made a home here.  This time, I’d be the one to have to leave. 

I felt desperate.  I’d never done anything this important, and somehow, I was failing.  Losing Artie, when I’d only just found him again.  He was going to tell me to leave after all, and I’d never get a chance to tell him what I’d come so very far to say.  My heart started pounding like a runaway horse.  Jesus.  I had to do something!  Say something –

But what else could I do?  For the first time in my life, I’d gone down on my knees; and even that hadn’t worked.

Why couldn’t Artie see I was sincere, and that I’d changed?  That the past didn’t matter, and that we’d be good together?  I tried to tell him that, but as always, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t say those words to him.  They just stuck in my throat, choking me.  I hated myself in that instant.  I could kneel at Artie’s feet, I could even kiss his hand; but I couldn’t say what he most needed to hear.  I couldn’t tell the man that I loved him.  Loved him like I’d never loved anyone or anything in my whole life. 

“Artie, wait.  I -- please.  Just –”

I felt like I was choking.  Worse, I sounded like an idiot.  It was pathetic.  I couldn’t even plead with him properly.  James West, Secret Service agent and ex-soldier, as tongue-tied as a schoolboy.

“What, Jim?” Artie sounded gentler now.  Not so bitter, not so coldly angry.  Like he’d gotten over the shock my words had somehow dealt him.  He’d gotten some of his color back too.  I was glad of that.

Still, I didn’t know what to say.  How to even start to make up for what I’d done to him.  But I had to say something.  Artie was the only person in my whole life, other than my mother, who’d ever really loved me.  The hope of finding him again was the only thing that’d kept me going while we were apart.  If he made me leave, I feared I’d go stone cold dead inside. 

My future stretched out in front of me, a cold, grey, meaningless stretch of time without him.  

I took a desperate step forward.  “Please – forgive me.”

**********************************************************************************

“Artie, wait.”  Oddly enough, now Jim looked scared.  Now he was the one who sounded like he was almost choking.  He started again in a low voice.  “I -- please.  Just –”

I blinked.  Jim had turned pale.  I’d never seen him so tongue-tied, so o’erset before.  He looked almost desperate; something I’d never thought to see in Jim.  Hell, I’d seen him look a lot calmer when Dr. Loveless had him hog-tied and helpless, and completely at his mercy.  That brought me back to myself with a snap.  Our time apart had changed him, in ways I’d never expected.  First he’d knelt to me, and now he was pleading with me.  It was deeply affecting. 

Jim’s learned to bend, I thought, stunned for a third time.  Dear God – I think he was telling the truth before!  I think he really does want me.  Maybe...  Maybe he even –

I felt a rush of wonder, of warmth, that was as keen as the shock he’d just dealt me.  It flowed through me, giving me back my strength.  My terrible mistake didn’t matter so much.  Jim hadn’t wanted me back then, but it seemed that for whatever reason, he did now.  I think he's fallen in love at last, I thought, with a sense of wonder.  _With me_.  My feet settled back onto solid ground.  I’d doubted him before, but no longer.  “What, Jim?”

Jim stepped forward, still pale but resolute.  “Please – forgive me.”

********************************************************************************

Artie didn’t move, but his eyes warmed and his voice was gentle, almost tender.  “James…  There’s no need.  I’m the one who should apologize.  I thought you knew, I thought – ”

I saw him swallow hard. 

“No.  At the time, I had no idea.” 

I shook my head again.  It was good to finally know for sure why he’d left, but that wasn’t the whole story.  I wanted him to know what had happened to me after that.  I kept talking.  “But things just… weren’t the same without you, Artie.”  I ducked my head, and scratched at my ear.  “I think…  I went a little crazy after you left,” I confessed.  I thought about Finton, that actor I’d almost choked for not being Artie.  Of how I’d galloped Flame afterwards, yelling curses like a madman in my anger and despair.  How I’d hit that tree over and over again, until my hands were bloody.  All the senseless fights I’d gotten in while I was searching for him.  That peddler who I’d beaten, because he’d beaten and abused his poor donkey.  I remembered how I used to look over and imagine Artie was riding beside me, when he wasn’t.  All those prayers I’d said, to a God I wasn’t even sure I believed in, just to keep him safe.  I shivered, remembering all that.  “While we were apart, while I was looking for you.  I – did some things I’m not proud of,” I grated.

“Jim,” Artie whispered, “ _don’t_ –”  Suddenly, he crossed the room and threw his arms around me.  “I don't care what you did, you hear me?  It doesn't matter.  I made some mistakes, too.”

I held him tightly, burying my face in his neck, so relieved that I had no words for it.  I was going to do better now that I was with Artie, I knew.  I loved the feel of his heart beating strongly against me.  “I’ll never leave you, Artie.  I swear!” I vowed.  “Not unless you make me.  Never.” 

“Oh, Jim,” Artie whispered, stroking me with hands that were as unsteady as mine.  “ _James, my boy_.  I forgive you, if you can forgive me.” 

Oh, thank God.  I let out a sigh against his throat, as a weight I’d been carrying ever since he left finally lifted off of my shoulders.  “There’s nothing to forgive,” I said, when I could finally speak again.  I meant it.  I loved him so much, I ached with it.  I loosened my tight hold on him, moved my hands over his back gently, caressing him more tenderly than I’d ever touched anyone.  All the demons that’d plagued me while we were apart were banished.  They’d turned to smoke, now that Artie had finally forgiven me.

Artie held me tenderly too.  I think I even felt him press a kiss into my hair.  “I’m sorry too.  Sorry for leaving you like I did.  I was wrong,” he murmured.  “I was ashamed.  I thought you knew how I felt, and that you were revolted –”

“Shh, Artie.  Shh,” I whispered.  “It doesn’t matter.  It’s all right.”  Finally, I thought, with a surge of triumph.  I’d waited so long, so very long for this.  Finally, we could –

But after a moment, Artie said quietly, “Jim.  James, look at me.”

There was an odd note in his voice.  When I lifted my head, his dark eyes were serious.  “You said before that you’d do anything for me.”

I nodded just as seriously.  “Anything.”

“Tell me the truth then, Jim.  Why’d you come here?”

I swallowed.  I’d been dreading that question ever since I got here.  But I couldn’t avoid it any longer.  I had Artie's forgiveness, but I had to earn his trust back, too.  I had to tell him the truth.  All of it.  “I told you that I’ve been looking for you, Artie.  The truth is, I quit the Secret Service the day after you did; and I’ve been looking for you ever since.  For almost two years.  I had to find you.  I couldn’t let you go.”

********************************************************************************************

“Good God,” I whispered, shocked even though I’d half suspected as much.  “All that time --?” 

Jim just nodded.  I knew that at last, he was telling me the truth.  He quit the Secret Service.  _For me_ , I thought, stunned.  But it explained so much.  The dirty, work-a-day clothes he’d been wearing when he found me, the way he’d bought Flame, all the time he’d spent with me since he got here.  I’d wondered of course, when I saw how he was dressed, and especially when I saw Flame.  But it was quite another thing to hear Jim say it.  To know that I meant that much to him. 

“In spite of the way I left you?” I breathed.  I felt doubly guilty now.

Jim smiled then, a little ruefully.  “Well, I won’t lie to you.  I was pretty angry with you, at first.  Really angry.”

I lifted an eyebrow.  “And?”

Jim shrugged a little, looking away.  “And then I wasn’t.  Then I just --”

 “Then what, Jim?”

He looked up at me suddenly, and his pale blue eyes were on fire.  “Then this.”

Jim surged forward and kissed me.

Jesus God, that kiss.  Jim’s mouth was as bold and sweet as I’d always dreamed it would be.

But just as improbable, too.

*****************************************************************************************

After a moment, Artie said, “Wait, Jim.  Stop.”  He pushed me away from him a little.  I was glad to see that he was breathing hard, and that it took him a minute to gather his wits enough to speak.  But I wondered what he was worried about now.  Hadn't we settled everything?    We'd sure as hell done enough talking...

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed this much?”  His dark eyes probed mine. 

It hurt a bit, that Artie still didn't quite trust that I wanted him.  But I'd given him every reason to doubt it in the past, so I just smiled at him.  “Not changed, Artie.  I think maybe it was always there, right from the first.  I just never realized it ‘till you left.”

Still, his eyes searched mine.  If words couldn’t stop him doubting me, I knew what would.  I stepped really close to him, took Artie’s hand and pressed it to my hardening cock.  “Feel it,” I said brazenly.  “Feel what you do to me.”

Artie’s face changed, a look of stunned surprise replacing the doubt that’d been there for so long.  As I pressed his long fingers against my cock, it throbbed, wanting him.  No man could doubt what that meant.  Artie's mouth worked, but no sound came out.  For the first time ever, I’d actually rendered Artemus Gordon speechless.  I felt a surge of triumph, and leaned up to kiss him again.

But Artie caught me before I could.  “Uh uh, James,” he tutted, with an evil grin.  “I think we should go upstairs and… discuss this.  Don’t you?”

Jesus God, I thought.  _Finally_!  Artie’s bedroom was upstairs, and I couldn't wait to see it.  I grinned back at him.  “Yeah, let’s.”

 

************************************************************************************** 

I confess, I dallied a bit on the way upstairs to my bedroom.  I wanted Jim to feel half-crazy with wanting me.  So I walked up the stairs slowly, whistling a bit, wanting to see how far I could test Jim’s patience.  We’d only gotten about halfway up the stairs when he grabbed my arm.  I smiled to myself as I swung around.  “Hmm?  What is it?”

Jim tried to press closer, to kiss me.  But I laid my hands on his chest, and used just enough pressure to stop him.  “Jim, Jim, Jim,” I murmured teasingly.  “You’re always so impatient.”   

“Artie!”  Jim was breathing hard now, practically vibrating with desire.  Though I knew he could steal a kiss by force, he stayed still, though I could see what the effort cost him.  If I’d needed more proof that he’d changed, that would’ve done it.  It was also one of the most amazing things I’d ever seen:  James West, so aroused that he was biting his lip and panting, yet holding himself still for my pleasure.  Waiting to see what I wanted.

I could get used to this, I thought.

Finally, I took pity on him.  I leaned down a bit and pressed my mouth to his -- but oh, so softly.  Jim’s mouth was warm and eager, and even at that slight caress, he gasped.  Delight welled up in me.  Jesus, but we were going to have so much fun! 

I grinned and then pulled back a little, still teasing him. 

“Come on, Jim, I thought we were heading upstairs.”  I stood a step above Jim on the stairs, which made it easier to evade him.  I kept it up for a while, edging backwards up the stairs, letting him have a kiss or two as we moved up, but not going any further.  Every time he leaned forward a little, trying to deepen the kiss, I leaned back and took a step up.  Jim bit his lip again, and I saw a vein start to throb in his forehead.  “Artie...”

I just smiled and leaned in close enough to take another brief, oh-so-soft kiss. 

It wasn’t revenge.  I didn’t do it to pay him back for all the years I’d spent hopelessly wanting him.  At least I don’t think so.  It was more that drawing this out, making him wait was so delicious.  Seeing Jim like that, shaking with desire, his blue eyes wide and burning, his full lips parted and hungry -- hungry for _me_ \--

I’d waited years for it.  Maybe my whole life.  I wasn’t going to rush it.

Finally, I heard Jim swear.  “ _Damn it_ , Artie!” 

Just as I stepped up off the landing, Jim finally lost control.  He reached up impatiently and pulled me back down onto it.  Off balance, I stumbled against him; but Jim took my weight easily, his arms closing around me with a strength I remembered very well.  He kissed me hard, crushing my lips against my teeth. 

I didn't just let him, I urged him on, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in even closer.  Jim groaned deep in his chest, a hot, needy sound that made me shiver.  I used my weight to turn him, then pushed him backwards, still kissing him, until he stumbled into the wall.  Stabbing my tongue deep into his mouth, I kept him there, pinning him with my body, holding him captive while we kissed with fierce intensity. 

Jim didn’t seem to mind the manhandling; in fact, it seemed to arouse him.  I could feel his heart pounding against me, and mine was galloping just as fast.  Jim moaned into my mouth and clutched at me, his hands digging into me.  We were both shaking with excitement, and I could feel his cock, hard as an iron bar already, burning against my hip. 

**********************************************************************************

Artie took control of our kiss again.  He twisted in my arms and the next thing I knew, he’d pushed me backwards into the wall.  He leaned hard against me, pressing his whole body tight to mine, pinning me there with his weight.  No one had ever done anything like that to me before.  I’d never been with a man before, with a lover large and strong enough to manhandle me like that.  All the women I’d ever been with expected me to take the lead, and to be gentle with them.  I was used to holding back, restraining myself.  But Artie didn't want that.  He was pushing me, with a man’s strength and hunger.  It was so exciting, I thought my heart would pound right out of my chest. 

Artie kissed me hard, too, harder than he ever had in my dreams.  I couldn’t get enough of it, of kissing him, of my new freedom to touch him.  I tangled my tongue with his and let my hands roam.  I touched his face, his ears, the soft, smooth skin at the back of his neck, and felt him shiver.  I ran my hands through his hair, his dark waves so thick and soft against my fingers.  Then I dragged my open mouth over his jaw, loving the roughness of his beard stubble against my lips.  I’d never felt anything like it before, but I loved it.  I loved everything about him, about this new kind of loving.  I kissed his neck, sucking hard at it until it reddened.  Artie made a hungry noise and tilted his head back, baring even more of his neck to my hungry mouth.  I could feel his heart pounding too, felt his cock hard and hot against me. 

Triumph surged through me.  Kissing Artie like this, feeling his body pressing against mine, was beyond sweet.  After more than a year, I finally had Artemus Gordon back.  I had my partner back again, and my whole body shook with pleasure so keen, it ripped sounds from me I'd never made before.  All those long, lonely days in the saddle chasing after him had been worth it.  All the storms I’d passed through, all the lonely, empty nights.  I’d do it all again, and more, for this:  Artie’s hands on me, his mouth devouring me.  Nothing had ever felt this good. 

God, I wanted him.

 _No more running away, Artemus_ , I thought, my hands moving over him in a fever as I moaned into his mouth.  _You’re never going to get away from me again._

We’d been heading upstairs, but I think we both went a little crazy then.  We couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop kissing, not even for a moment.  Artie was holding me, kissing me – there was nothing else in the world but his mouth, his hands, his strong body.  Want twisted inside me, like a fist squeezing my heart.  My desire was so deep, so intense it was almost like a drug.  I wanted him right there, right then.  I didn’t care about a bed, I didn’t care about anything but him. 

Finally, Artie lifted his head.  I stared at him, dazed, resenting the fact that he’d stopped touching me, even for a second.  So I dropped to my knees.  It was easier the second time.  I’d never done this before, but I still knew what I wanted.  I pressed my face to his groin, and rubbed my cheek against the hardness straining against his pants.  I reached out, with unsteady hands, to unfasten them.

But Artie caught my hands.

My head jerked up in surprise.  Artie held my chin tightly.  Any harder, and he’d’ve left bruises.  “No, Jim,” he said hoarsely.  His eyes were wide, and so dark they almost glittered with hunger as deep as my own.  “Not like that.  Get up,” he said.

I wasn’t used to obeying orders, but I got up anyway, because it was Artie asking.  As soon as I was standing, Artie unfastened his trousers.  Then, with a few expert flicks, he undid mine too, and pulled me against him.  I almost wanted to laugh.  We hadn’t even made it upstairs yet!  Not that I was complaining. 

Artie smiled at me.  “Together, James my boy,” he said softly, his voice an impossible mix of hunger and affection.

Artie was so right.  That was why I’d followed him for almost two lonely years -- so we could be together.  “Okay,” I smiled back.  “Together.”

Artie slid two of his fingers into his mouth, holding my gaze while he sucked them.  I swallowed, wanting them in my own mouth.  Artie pulled them out and grinned.  “Next time, Jim,” he said, as if he’d read my mind.  Then he reached down between us.  I looked down as Artie took my cock in his hand for the first time.  I gasped, watching his long, strong, deft fingers close around me.  The strength of his grip was a hot, erotic shock that made my legs tremble; but that was only the beginning. 

Artie grinned wickedly at me.  Then he took my mouth in an equally wicked kiss; and before I could do more than gasp, he gathered his cock up against mine and started to work us both, with a firm, expert stroke.  I’d never felt anything like that before.  Seeing his hand on my cock had made me moan; and his stroking felt so good, I cried out into his mouth.  The sensation of Artie’s cock sliding against mine, pulsing against mine was so amazing, it nearly took me over the edge.  I knew I should be doing something, not just standing there like a woman, letting Artie do all the work.  But it was almost all I could do to stay standing.  Pleasure surged in me, making my heart pound, making me shake.  I clutched at him, moaning, my hands gripping his broad back for support. 

Artie gentled his fierce kiss a little, but worked our cocks even faster.  I groaned and slid my hands down further, until I found his ass.  I gripped it until it filled both my hands, and kneaded it through his pants as Artie worked his magic on our cocks.  Artie moaned then, trembling with the pleasure of it, and I felt a fierce satisfaction.  I’d waited so long for this, so very long, and I wanted him to feel it, too – the same hot, overpowering pleasure I felt.  It rolled through me like thunder, so deep and powerful that I felt drunk with it, like I was flying.  Artie’s hands were strong and sure, and he stroked my cock better than anyone ever had.  In seconds, I was panting.  I knew I couldn’t last.

God, his hands!

I tore my mouth from Artie’s, turned my cheek against his.  The fine stubble on his jaw rasped against me, the sweetest burn I’d ever felt.  “Artie!  _Now_!” I gasped in his ear, biting it as the pleasure built and built.

Artie gave both our cocks a strong pull, then an expert twist.  I cried out hoarsely, with ecstasy so sharp it was like pain.  I shook as I spilled over his hand.  The last thing I felt, before the world whited out around me was Artie spending too, our heat mixing together and flowing over both our hands.  _Together_ , I thought, with fierce satisfaction.  

I never knew how long it was before I came back to myself.  But when I did, I was still breathing hard, and Artie was practically holding me up against the wall.  I saw him putting away his handkerchief, and realized that he must’ve cleaned us both up.

Artie’s eyes were dark, so dark, but they still shone with lust.  He wasn't close to being sated yet, and I was glad.  “Bed,” he gasped, his chest still heaving. 

Seems I wasn’t the only one who was losing the power of speech.  I reached up to touch Artie’s mouth.  His lips were wet and red, and a bit bruised from the force of my kisses; his dark hair was tousled from my hands.  I felt proud, because I’d done that to him.  Kissed him half senseless, made him hard, made him spend; and still, he wanted more.  I'd finally made Artie almost speechless with pleasure.  It was the best thing, the truest thing I’d ever done.  No, that _we’d_ ever done.  I smiled with savage satisfaction.

Artie’s lips turned up in a smile that was just as feral.  “ _My_ bed,” he said, but it was more like a command. 

“ _Now,_ ” I agreed.  My voice was so hoarse I hardly recognized it. 

Artie turned and towed me upstairs, so fast that he was almost dragging me.  I leapt up after him.

********************************************************************************

Artie towed me into his bedroom without even bothering to close the door.  He just tore at the buttons on my shirt, his fingers flying.  I tried to reach for his, but he pushed my hands aside with an impatient growl.  I got the message, so I just stood there, breathing hard while he undressed me.  It didn’t take long before I stood naked in front of him.

Artie stepped back, still breathing fast himself, and just stared at me.

I’d never been shy in the bedroom, but I felt almost shy then.  I was painfully aroused, so hard that my cock stood straight out from my body.  But it wasn’t that; it was Artie’s gaze that made me flush.  No one had ever looked at me like that before.  I’d seen lust before, plenty of times.  But never a love so deep and fierce that it showed not just in his eyes, but in every line of Artie’s body.  I don’t deserve it, I thought.  “Artie…” 

I saw him swallow hard.  “Turn around,” he said.  It was more like an order, really.

I blinked in surprise, then did as he asked.

Artie wrapped his arms around me from behind, and laid his hand over my heart.  “This is what I want,” he said in my ear, pressing down so I couldn’t mistake his meaning.  “ _This_ …” 

I laid both of my hands over his.  “It’s yours,” I rasped.  “Always was.”

Artie pressed a kiss into my neck.  Then he took my hand and pulled me over to his bed, which was large and comfortable looking.  Built for fun, I thought, pleased as he pulled back the covers.

“Get in, James,” he said; and I did. 

Artie's eyes were burning as he stood there looking down at me.  “I dreamed of this,” he said hoarsely.  “So many times.”

Artie’s bed was as soft as it looked, but I hardly noticed it.  All I saw was his face, and the longing in his eyes.  I had to answer it.  “I dreamed about you too,” I said.  I hadn’t meant to tell him that, but with Artie looking at me like that, what else could I do?

Then I smiled at him.  “Come on, Artie.  What are you waiting for?”

I drew him down onto the bed, then rolled on top of him.  I caught his hands, and pulled his arms up over his head.  Artie looked flushed and happy and oh, so tempting.

I bent my head and kissed him hard, still pinning his arms down.  When Artie started to moan and his hips thrust up, I finally lifted my head.  Pressing down gently on his hands, I panted, “Leave them there.”

Artie bit his lip.  “Why?” he teased.

I grinned down at him.  “I’ve got plans for you,” I said, “ _Mr. Gordon_.  Or Dragon, or whatever you’re calling yourself today.”

Artie grinned back at me.  “Lucky,” he said.  “Today, I’m calling myself lucky.”  He left his hands up above his head, too.

I bent my head and huffed a laugh as I kissed down his chest.  “You and me both, Artemus.”

I slid down a little lower, and rubbed my cheek against Artie’s cock until he shivered and writhed, and his cock throbbed and hardened.  “That’s it,” I said hoarsely.  “I want to make you spend again.  I’m going to,” I murmured, shaking with lust.  “Again and again and again…”

“I’m -- starting to think -- lucky is – too weak a word,” Artie panted, grinning.

I smiled.  Too weak, indeed.  Then I took him into my mouth, hungry for the taste of him, for all of him; and all he could do was moan.

******************************************************************************

After the second time, we both fell asleep for a while.  It was some hours later when I got up, lit a lamp and got dressed again.  I think I just wanted something to occupy me while I watched Jim sleep.  I was still filled with wonder that things had turned out like this.  That he was here in my bed, at last.

“Artie,” Jim said suddenly, his voice a bit blurred with sleep.  He turned his head towards me and opened one eye.  “What’re you doing?”

“Getting dressed,” I answered, much more calmly than I felt.

“Why?”

I opened my mouth to answer him, then shut it again, bemused.  “I’m not quite sure,” I confessed, scratching my head.

Jim propped himself up on one arm.  “Don’t.”  He raised an eyebrow at me, gloriously, unself-consciously naked.  “Come back to bed.”

He didn’t need to ask me twice.

But before I could climb back in beside him, Jim surprised me by saying, “No, wait.  On second thought, stay there.”

I paused beside the bed, and this time, it was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him.  “Why?” I teased.  “Do you have another plan in mind, perhaps?”

Jim grinned wickedly.  “I have _hundreds_ of plans for you,” he promised.  He was using his bedroom voice again, but this time, that low, sexy, teasing tone was for me.  For _me_.  I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of hearing it.

“That's nice.  And I have a few of my own,” I smiled back.

“Good.”  Jim got out of bed, and knelt down in front of me again. 

I blinked down at his bent head.  This was the second time today that he’d willingly gone to his knees for me.  I shook my head in bemusement.  He’d changed, all right.  Who’d have thought?

I waved a hand at him lazily, like an Arab with his harem boy.  “Carry on, James.”

“Oh, I will.”  Jim just grinned, put his arms around me, pulled me close and pressed a kiss into my belly.  The heat of it burned through my shirt, and I sucked in a breath.  We’d already had sex twice, yet every time he touched me, it felt as intense, as powerful as his first touch.  Jim looked up at me and smiled, a cocky grin that took my breath away.  He was getting the hang of this, all right, I thought, amused.  He lowered his head and pressed his cheek to my cock, caressing it through my pants.

I made a strangled sound.  

“Artie,” Jim whispered.  He was so strong, Jesus.  His biceps bulged as he held me so tightly that I couldn’t move, couldn’t break free.  It was incredibly arousing being restrained like that, watching my lover’s big muscles flex to hold me.  I could feel Jim shaking now, just like I was.  Then he mouthed down the length of my rapidly hardening cock.

“ _Again_ ,” he breathed, and oh God, the hunger in his voice.

I closed my eyes, still having a hard time believing that I wasn’t dreaming.  “Yes.  _Again_ ,” I whispered, glorying in his hunger and my own.

***************************************************************************

I woke Artie again, just at dawn.

I wanted him inside me; and Artie, it seemed, wanted that too.

I’d never done that before, but Artie had.  He tried to do it slowly, but I couldn’t wait.  He’d just eased his second finger into me, coating me with oil he’d brought up from his kitchen, when I moaned and threw back my head.  “Now, Artie.”

“But –”

“Now, _Jesus_ ,” I groaned, as his fingers hit something inside me that hit me like a lightning bolt.  I moaned, writhing underneath him.  “ _Now_!”  I could hardly breathe, from the white-hot pleasure of his fingers deep inside me.  If he didn’t do it now, I was going to –

“All right, _now_.”  Artie’s hand brushed my ass, then he thrust into me firmly, going deep.  We both cried out, Artie in pleasure, me in pain.  It hurt, and I clawed at his pillow for a second, tears springing to my eyes.  But deep inside, a part of me was glad.  Artie had filled me, had fairly split me in two with his cock.  It was thick and throbbing and so deep that he groaned, and gasped, “Okay, Jim?” 

When I could speak again, I rasped, “Yeah,” smiling to myself.  The pain was fading, and it didn't matter anyway.  I was Artie’s now, and once I’d had a chance to return the favor, he’d be mine the same way.  He was never leaving me again; and I’d meant what I’d said.  I was never going to leave him, either.  If it took a bit of pain to seal that bargain, it was more than worth it. 

Artie had stopped, his hips on mine, panting.  “James?” he whispered, and he trembled with the effort of holding back.

I smiled and turned my head to urge him on.  “Come on.  All the way, Artie.  I want all of it,” I demanded, hungry for him.

“As you wish.”

Artie thrust the rest of the way in, and I gasped.  Artie stopped for a second, groaning deep in his throat.  I grinned.  I’d never heard Artie sound like that with a woman.  I was selfishly glad he’d saved that loud, extravagant groan for me.  It was a new sensation, having Artie’s hot breath on the back of my neck, his chest against my back, his weight on me and his cock deep inside me.  Christ, I’d never felt anything like it.  I felt stretched, stuffed full of him, but on the edge of something incredible.  Half split in two, yet still wanting more. 

Being with women wasn’t the same thing at all, I thought amazed.  I'd thought I knew all about sex, but this -- this was so much better.  This was heat, sweat and strength, pain and pleasure mixed, and my naked body covered with the heat and weight of Artie’s larger one.  It was the best feeling I’d ever known.  I couldn’t wait to do this to him too.  I pushed back against him, and growled, “More!” 

“Happy to,” Artie said softly.  He started thrusting, harder and harder, until he was rocking into me so hard that it drove out breath, speech, everything but the sense of him, warm and broad across my back, his heart pounding against me as he drove into me with all his strength. 

“Jim, Jim,” he whispered, as his bed creaked under us.  “Jesus...”  He sounded as overwhelmed as I was. 

I reached out and gripped Artie’s hand, weaving our fingers together as he pounded into me.  _Togethe_ r, I thought again.

Suddenly Artie hit that place deep inside me that blasted pleasure through me like white lightning.  I cried out, shaking, and Artie did it again.  And again…

I felt blinded by pleasure, almost overwhelmed by it.  Christ, but I loved this.  I loved him.  This was what we’d both been meant for, always.  “ _More_ ,” I moaned, then I just gasped helplessly as Artie drove deep again, his heart beating wildly against my back.

Artie gave it all to me, and then some, until my heart pounded and I could hardly breathe from the waves of pleasure rolling through me.  Finally, he drove into me so deep and hard, groaning, that I spent, moaning helplessly as I shuddered all over.  I felt my ass tightening around him, and Artie thrust harder, faster, riding the wave of my pleasure, until finally he froze and spent too, deep inside me.

Artie collapsed beside me, just managing not to collapse on top of me.  

Artie was still limp and gasping, seemingly barely conscious from the force of his own release, when I rolled him over and stretched myself out over his back.  Mmm…  His muscles were wonderfully solid under me and deliciously sweaty.  He was so big, so strong…  There was so much of him, and every inch of him was mine:  from his thick dark hair, brown eyes and broad shoulders, to his long, elegant feet. 

My first man, I thought.  _My only man_...

Being able to touch Artie like I wanted, being able to press against him from head to toe felt so good that I almost moaned out loud all over again.  This thing between us was so new, and my feelings were so deep, so intense that they almost hurt.  But it was a good kind of pain; the best.  And I was still so hungry for him, I couldn’t stop.  I pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses onto his shoulders.  Artie didn’t move.  I wasn’t sure he was even quite back with me yet, but I didn’t care. 

I smiled while I covered him with kisses.  I thought how odd it was, that I'd never really wanted to stay in bed with women like this, after sex.  But with Artie, I never wanted to leave.  _We have time_ , I thought, and in some ways, that was the deepest pleasure of all.  We’d have all the time in the world, now.  We were together; and if I had anything to say about it, we’d never be apart again.

I swiped my tongue across the back of Artie’s neck, unable to get enough of him.  And God, he tasted good, too.  Salty, sweet and incredibly exciting.

Artie sucked in a breath at that. 

“Artie.  God, Artie!” I whispered, my cock hardening again as I kissed him.  I couldn’t stop saying his name, couldn’t stop kissing him.  Even though we’d just finished, I’d never wanted anyone so much.  _I’ll never be done with you_ , I thought, glad of it.  _Never._

Artie lay heavy and pliant under me, still breathing hard.  I laid my cheek on his back, rubbed my stubble against his smooth skin.  Artie sighed with pleasure.  I smiled to myself, happy that I’d made him feel so good.  He smelled delicious:  of sex, sweat and himself.  I realized, I’d loved his scent for years – for as long as I’d known him.  In an orgy of possessiveness, I devoured his broad back.  I kissed him, bit him, licked the sweat from his spine, and dug my fingers into his muscles, gorging myself again on his body.  Artie moaned softly, twitching a little, and I groaned with the pleasure of it. 

How, I wondered dimly, had I ever thought I preferred women to _this_?  I wished I’d known about this kind of sex years ago.  I always had to be so careful with women, always had to hold back, to watch my strength.  But Artie could take all of me -- all my strength, all my passion without breaking.  Better still, he could give his own back to me.  I tingled all over, remembering how I’d pinned his hands over his head; and he’d returned the favor by pinning me to his bed just now, with hard thrusts.

 _God almighty_.  Just thinking about that filled my cock with a rush of blood.  I'd thought I knew everything about sex.  I'd been so wrong.  Artie had taught me stunning new pleasures, done things that no one had ever done to me before.  No one had ever made every nerve in my body sing, the way he had.  I’d never felt anything like that – had never known that I’d love taking a man’s cock in my mouth or up my ass, or that I _wanted_ to match my strength against a man’s in bed.  Now, I felt like I’d longed for it – for _him_ – all my life.  Sex had always been fun for me, but I’d never even imagined it could be like this; so intense that it could make me feel like the pleasure might kill me, and that I’d be happy to go that way.  Artie was an amazing lover, skilled, passionate and alternately forceful and gentle.  I stretched a little, still feeling the delicious ache of his cock pushing into me.

Then again, maybe it wasn't just being with a man that made the difference.  It was finally being with Artie that did.  Maybe it couldn’t be like that with anybody else, because I’d never loved anyone else.  I’d never brought both my heart and my body to bed with anyone before. 

I felt hungry again, ravenous.  I couldn’t get enough of Artie.  I wanted him to wake up, this instant, so we could do it all over again.

“Artie,” I murmured.

Artie didn’t move or speak.  “Artie!” I said, a bit louder that time, impatient.  I bent my head and kissed his shoulder too, to get his attention.

He still didn’t move.  Wondering at his continued silence, I raised my head and stared at him.  I even shook him a little.  “ _Artie_!”

He cracked one eye open, and though his mouth didn’t move, that eye grinned wickedly at me.  “You rang, James?”

I burst out laughing, and squeezed him.  “Damn you, you were awake the whole time!”

Finally, Artie moved.  In one sinuous, breathtaking move, he broke my hold, twisted and rolled me onto my back, underneath him.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Kind of hard to sleep with you kissing me like that, James,” he murmured, grinning down at me.

And God, I was so far gone; because the sound of his voice, the hot, predatory look in his eyes sent a thrill through me.  “I hope so,” I grinned back.  “Wanna do it again?”

Artie heaved a sigh, his grin fading.  “Jim, Jim, Jim,” he drawled.  He shook his head, suddenly serious. 

What was wrong?  Had Artie changed his mind again?  Was this going to be the only time –?

Then Artie grinned at me mischievously.  “I thought you were never going to ask!”

We both burst out laughing like a pair of crazy men.  I couldn’t seem to stop.  I laughed while I tussled with him on the bed, kissing him and rolling around, breathless and happy, so happy that I couldn’t stop smiling.  I felt like my heart was three sizes bigger than it had been for the last eighteen months.  Bigger than it had ever been, and every bit of it filled with love for Artie.  It was still hard to believe that he was mine, after such a long time alone.

I rolled him under me again, and looked down at him.  Artie smiled up at me sweetly, and suddenly I knew I had to tell him.  “Artie, I want – I want to stay here.  With you,” I blurted.  “If you’ll have me.”

Artie pursed his lips, as if he had to think about it.  “Perhaps,” he allowed.  But his eyes were laughing at me. 

I beamed at him.  “Good!  Because I’ve got a plan,” I said eagerly.

Artie looked amused.  “Do you now?  Remember, I only said ‘perhaps’…”

I ignored his teasing and rushed on.  “I want to start a ranch.  I’ve got some money saved.  A lot, actually.  I’ll buy some land and horses, like I always wanted --”

Artie raised a sardonic eyebrow.  “Is that all you want?”

“No!  No, it’s – Artie, I want you to live there with me.  I’ll build you a house, every bit as fine as this one.  With a music room, for you and your students.  I’ll raise horses, you can teach, or do whatever you want; and I’ll never leave you.  Never,” I finished softly, meaning it. 

Artie’s face changed then, his gaze turning soft and warm.  “Well.  In that case…  I may be able to help you with that idea, James,” he said.

I thought I was happy a minute ago; but Artie saying yes to my dream of a ranch turned it into joy.  I bent my head and kissed his neck, grinning hugely, to hide the rush of emotion I felt.  But I suspected Artie knew how I felt anyway.  “Yeah?” I whispered, dazed at my own good fortune.

“Yes.”  Artie’s hands came up, stroking my hair as I nuzzled into him.  “It just happens that I have about forty acres of land that I’m not using.  I wasn’t sure what to do with them.  So you can have them, James.  For your ranch.”

I raised my head and stared at him, stunned.  _Forty acres_!

Artie shrugged carelessly, as if he hadn’t just offered me a princely gift.  “They came with the house.”

I laughed in sheer amazement.  “Artie, you can’t just –”

He just smiled at me.  “It’s my land,” he said mildly.  “I own it, and I can do anything I damn well please with it.”  He raised a hand to caress my cheek. “And I _please_ ,” he said emphatically, “to give it to you, James.”

I shook my head, still speechless.  There was no way I was going to let him do that; but we had another, even more important point to settle first.  “If I say yes, then you’ll live there with me?” I pressed, because it wouldn’t mean anything without him.

Artie looked amused again.  “Is there some reason you can’t live here with me?  That land surrounds this house, and I’m rather partial to this house.”

I laughed out loud.  “Sure, Artie.  We can live here.”  I loved his house too, so I didn't mind giving up on my plan to build one for Artie, in favor of that.  It was a wonderful house, and Artie had filled it with beautiful, colorful things that bore the mark of his personality.  I could still do my part by building horse barns, corrals and fences, and planting fruit trees and a vineyard for him, if he wanted that.  It would be fine.  “And I’ll take the land, and thank you -- but only if you let me pay you for it.”

Artie just shook his head, smiling slightly, his eyes bright with the same things I was feeling.  I'd never seen him look so happy, and I loved it.  I secretly vowed to do everything I could to keep him looking like that for the rest of his life. His hands moved through my hair so gently that it took my breath away.  It was the way he’d always touched me, and I felt a pang at all the years I’d wasted – all the ways I’d hurt him, without meaning to.  And after all that, he still offered to give me all his land so I could have my dream of a ranch, though he didn’t even like horses much. 

 _God, Artie_.

I knew then, though it made me feel kind of rueful, that I’d never done anything in my life good enough to deserve him.  At least now, I’d have time to make up for that.  Time to do things for him, whatever he wanted.  Time to make Artie happy, like he deserved. Filled with a tenderness that suffused every inch of me, I took his face in my hands, lowered my head and kissed him.  Gently, tenderly, like I hadn’t before, with my eyes closed.  Soft, breathless kisses, all over Artie’s eyes, his brow, his mouth.

Artie went very still in my arms.  “What was that for?” he breathed.

It damn sure wasn’t because he’d offered to give me land.  But I was so choked up with emotion, I could hardly speak.  “It’s because I --”  Damn it!  I couldn’t get the words out. Just three little words, and here was the moment, the perfect time to say them; and I still couldn’t.  I set my jaw hard, hating myself for it.

Artie stroked my cheek, as if to soothe the muscles that tightened my jaw so fiercely.  “What, Jim?  Tell me.”

Jesus.  I shut my eyes, embarrassed, and shook my head mutely.  I’d never said these words, never.  Not to anyone.  I didn’t know how.  But I’d known that I loved Artie for years, long before I even realized that I wanted him; and I knew that he needed to hear me say it.  Artie loved words.  As an actor, he’d made his living with them long before I even met him.  He wielded words with more force and skill than most fencers could wield a sword.  A man like that needed to hear those words.  Artie _deserved_ to hear me say them, a thousand times over.  Why was it still so damn hard for me?  How could I be such an idiot?  I forced my jaw to loosen, so I could speak.  _Say it, damn it!_ I told myself desperately.  I tried, but somehow I couldn’t.

“I -- I missed you when you were gone,” was what came out instead.  Jesus.  It was the truth, but still such a miserable excuse for what I wanted to say that I couldn’t stand it.  Besides, I’d already told him that.  I laid my head down on his chest, so I wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I see,” Artie said, very quietly.  “Well then.  I missed you too, Jim.”  He patted me gently for a minute.  Then he let go of me, and started to get up. 

I caught at his arm.  “Artie, wait –”

“Sorry, but I have things to do.  Pleasant though this was, I can’t lie about in bed all day.”  His voice had turned cool, and his words stung.  He shook me off and stood up briskly, turning his back like he meant to walk away.  Like he had far more important things to do than linger here in bed with me.

 _Pleasant_?  My mind reeled.  That was all this had been to him?  All I’d been?  After I’d chased him through seven goddamn states, for eighteen hellish months?  After he’d turned my whole world on its head?  After he’d made me spend harder than I ever had in my whole life?  After he’d made me love him more than I’d ever imagined I could love anyone?  After all that, all our first time together had been for him was _pleasant_?

I lunged forward and grabbed his arm again before he could get away.  I pulled him around to face me.  “Artie –”

“Yes?” Artie’s face was calm, so calm that I wanted to shake him.  And so cool and distant, it chilled me.

I’d thought I was angry.  My chest felt tight, like something was pushing up from deep inside me, fighting to get out.  I’d been holding it in but finally, I stopped resisting and suddenly it poured out.  There were the words I'd never said to anyone -- because they were meant for Artemus.  “I love you!” I blurted, my heart pounding fit to burst my chest.

Artie blinked.

So did I.  Then, grinning like a madman, I said it again, even louder.  “ _I love you_ , Artie!”

“Why, I believe you do, James,” was all he said. 

But Artie smiled at me then, as sweetly as if I’d hung the moon.

 

THE END

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last story in this series. Thanks to anyone who read the whole thing. I'd love to hear what you think of it. Comments would be much appreciated. : )
> 
> Here are some miscellaneous notes about history, poetry and music in the series.
> 
> The Oscar Wilde quote in the first story is from “The Ballad of Reading Gaol”, a poem which he actually wrote in 1897. I had it written roughly 27 years earlier, for the purposes of this story.  
> The Broadway Opera House and the Bijou Opera House were both theaters in San Francisco, CA in the 1880’s. Only they weren’t called theaters because back then, the word was associated with prostitution.  
> The town of Desolation, CO is purely fictional.  
> If anyone’s interested in the songs in this fic, read on.  
> The lyrics to “If I Were a Blackbird” are from a traditional old Irish song, as are those from “Whiskey in the Jar” which Artie sings after he wins at poker, and the fragment from “Carrickfergus” that he sings in his hotel room.  
> The song Artie composes about he and Jim for the violin is really two songs: "Jerusalem's Ridge" and then “Ashokan Farewell”, as played by the great American violinist Mark O’Connor.  
> The lyrics to the song Artie thinks of while riding away from the Wanderer are from “500 Miles”, by the Seekers.


End file.
